


Man of Fire, Woman of Ice

by maggyjenkins



Category: Asoiaf - Fandom, game of thrones
Genre: Angst, Azor Ahai, Dorne, F/M, Fire and Blood, Fluff, North, R plus L equals J, Rhaegar and Lyanna's time together, Riverlands, Smut, The Prince That Was Promised, Tourney at Harrenhal, Tower of Joy, Weirwoods, Winterfell, dancer! Lyanna, family duty honor, isle of faces, old gods of westeros, singer! Rhaegar, winter is coming
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-20
Updated: 2016-12-09
Packaged: 2018-09-01 03:21:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,785
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8605285
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maggyjenkins/pseuds/maggyjenkins
Summary: The man of fire and the woman of ice loved each other very much. But fire and ice don't mix, and soon enough she will melt and the water from her dissolving form may douse his flames into ash.~Stays mostly true to the actual events of the books with plot changes and includes elements from the show as well. This is my take on Rhaegar and Lyanna's time together at the tourney of Harrenhal and in the tower of joy.CURRENTLY ON HIATUS





	1. Arian Snow and Rhaegar Targaryen

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! So I've had this idea of Lyanna posing as a street dancer for a long time now, and this is my second attempt at writing it. I wanted to diverge from the usual Lyanna-is-the-knight-of-the-laughing-tree-and-that's-how-Rhaegar-and-her-meet type plot, but I may include that element in later chapters. Thank you so much for reading, I hope you enjoy:)

LYANNA

~

Lyanna hated carriages.

When her father told her she was only to wear dresses at Harrenhall, Lyanna knew that it meant no riding. And no riding meant traveling by carriage. Lyanna hated carriages. She was fierce and stubborn, and wouldn't go down without a fight. Her father, Lord Rickard, stood his ground and denied her the right to travel by horse to the tourney through all her fits and tantrums until his daughter finally struck his weak point.

"You wouldn't have made mother ride in a carriage." Lyanna didn't bring up her mother often. Barely anyone ever did. Lyarra had died five years prior of a fever, and after the loss, Rickard, so stricken by grief, had sworn to take no other wife nor bring any other to bed. Everyone had loved the wild lady of Winterfell, and everyone had mourned her loss. When Lyanna laid down the guilt trip of her mother, the ghost of a smile danced across Rickard's lips.

"You truly are your mother's daughter." Rickard stepped forward and kissed his daughter's forehead. "You win this argument, Lya. I'll allow you to ride to Harrenhall instead of in the carriage." Lyanna smiled proudly at her victory before thanking her father and leaving for the stables. She was wearing leather breeches, a leather tunic, and a grey velvet cloak that flowed behind her as she walked through the halls of her ancient home and out into the stables.

"Hello Hodor! Got Snowfall all saddled up for me already, thank you!" Lyanna greeted the simpleton stableboy, Hodor, who in turn greeted her with a nod and a friendly "Hodor" before he handed her the reins of her white mare, Snowfall. She mounted the horse with ease and kicked her slightly, allowing her to run free. Lyanna felt the cold wind against her face as her horse galloped off, beyond the open gates of Winterfell, and out on the kingsroad. The breeze blew her long, raven black hair behind her in waves and she felt free as a bird, riding her horse. She slowed Snowfall to a stop as she noticed a small party of riders down the road. She squinted before she recognized the banners of house Stark, her house, and she felt herself fill with anticipation and excitement. It could only mean one thing: Ned was home from the Vale.

A large beaming smile spread across Lyanna's lips and she dismounted her horse as she saw her older brother sitting atop his chestnut brown destrier. She took off in a sprint, yelling his name, and Ned smiled as he jumped off his horse.

"Lya!" Her name escaped his lips as the two siblings collided in a warm and tight embrace. He lifted her off the ground and spun around before setting her down and examining the sister that he hadn't seen in four years.

"I really have been gone a long time, you're a woman grown!" Lyanna wasn't going to pretend that she hadn't grown into a beautiful woman of six and ten, it would be stupid to deny. And she would be blind if she hadn't noticed how her brother had grown as well. He was much taller than her, his shoulders had broadened, his arms were thick with muscle, and any roundness of boyhood in his face has been chiseled away by time.

"Aye, and you're twice the size that you were when you left!" She barely recognized his voice which had deepened greatly since their last goodbyes when he had left four years prior, but his kind, grey eyes remained the same as always. Ned laughed before climbing back on his horse.

"Get back on your horse, Lya. As much as I would love to stay here and catch up with you, I'd also much like to see father, Bran, and Ben. And, these men would love to rest in featherbeds." Ned said, gesturing to the tired looking party of a few riders. Lyanna smiled before running back towards Snowfall, who was grazing on some grass, and mounting her with ease. Ned cantered up to her and Lyanna looked at him with the same mischief in her eyes as when they were young, and arched one of her brows, challenging him.

"Lya, we're not children anymore, I'll not race you!" Lyanna grinned at her brother wickedly.

"What, are you scared that you're going to lose?" She laughed before kicking Snowfall and riding forward, back towards Winterfell, her brother close behind. The siblings laughed as Lyanna beat her brother to the gates, which were wide open. She heard someone of their household guard announce his arrival, and she saw her eldest brother Brandon and her younger brother Benjen drop their swords in the midst of sparring to run over to her and Ned. He dismounted his horse and the three brothers shared warm embraces, laughs, and small talk of questions and answers about life in the Eyrie.

"Eddard!" A booming voice came from the main entrance to the training yard. The siblings stopped to look at their father, Rickard who approached them. Lyanna, Brandon, and Benjen stepped aside to allow their father room. Rickard was a tall man who often towered over almost everyone, save for his sons and a handful of others. He had a short, tamed beard and the striking grey eyes and deep black hair of a Stark. He was solemn, wise, and always respected. He only ever saved his anger for the worst of the worst of crimes.

"Hello father." Ned spoke the words with an equal amount of warmth and respect, unsure of how to greet him. Rickard pulled him into a tight embrace. When he pulled back he was smiling.

"All four of my children together again. The whole family." A silence fell over the siblings and their smiles washed away. The last time all of them were together was on the day of Lyarra's burial. The siblings had been ten, eleven, twelve, and fourteen, and their mother had been thirty two on the day of her death. It had been on her final nameday. Rickard shook off the tension by going into the details of their ride south to Harrenhall.

"My dear children. As you all know, we have been invited to the tourney of Harrenhall. And you also know, there must always be a Stark in Winterfell." Lyanna felt her heart sink. She knew that she would be the one to stay, as Ned was going to be. However, Ned had arrived home four days early, and girls didn't have much of a place at tourneys other than to be polite, wear fancy dress, and to talk up prospective lord husbands. Lyanna wasn't good at any of that. "So, I hope that the four of you have good fun and are gracious guests of house Whent. I will be staying here in Winterfell instead of you, Ned." Lyanna smiled widely and that night, she dreamt of the melted stone castle of Harrenhall.

When she woke the next morning, her handmaiden and best (and only) female friend, Alys Karstark, had already packed all of her clothes and belongings.

"Get up Lya! You're to leave in an hour!" Lyanna practically jumped out of bed at the sound of Alys's voice and ran over to her wardrobe, pulling out a pair of leather riding breeches and a grey tunic. She turned to see Alys standing by the door, laughing at her excitement. Alys was a pretty girl, short and slim, with long chestnut brown hair and round, black eyes. She turned and left Lyanna to dress herself.

An hour later, Brandon, Ned, Lyanna, and Benjen had bid their father goodbye and were riding south towards Harrenhall. And for the first time, the four Stark children rode away on a trip with no household guard or anyone else to protect them.

They rode for a fortnight until they reached the melted stone castle. Lyanna had stopped to wonder in awe at it's beauty before they rode for the fields where many large tents were set up. When they rode to the stables, not far from the camping fields, the stable boy had looked at Lyanna with a sort of confusion as to why the lady of Winterfell was wearing breeches and a tunic. They took the packs of clothing and other various belongings off of the saddles before dismounting. When they dismounted, their tents were easily spotted. Large and at the front of the field, four grey tents with large direwolfs sewn into them stood proudly, waiting to be occupied. Lyanna and her brothers dismounted their horses in unison and made their way to their tents.

As Lyanna entered her tent, she saw that there was already a featherbed mattress and blankets set up along with a vanity. She snorted at the thought of servants setting up the tent and thinking that she would use the beauty desk. As she unpacked, she noticed the red fabric of her dancing dress and she smiled, silently thanking Alys for packing it.

 

Her first order of business was to make her way to the market outside of Harrenhall unnoticed. She did this every time that her family travelled, becoming someone else. It was almost as if she were putting on a different face when she put on the billowy red dancing dress. She covered herself with a grey cloak before stealing away to the cobblestone streets of the market.

~

RHAEGAR

~

Rhaegar had left Elia and Rhaenys in the keep. It wasn't easy evading the kingsguard as they were sworn to protect him at all costs, him being the prince and heir to the iron throne. But he enjoyed the market and posing as a commoner so much he couldn't resist doing it where he wasn't constantly recognized. He pulled his hood over his head and stole away from the melted stone castle on foot. He arrived at the market and started listening to the singers, buying dolls for his daughter from vendors, and tasting the waterberries, native to the riverlands. As a boy ran into him, Rhaegar noticed a crowd starting to gather around a small stage with a single silver curtain covering the actual platform from view. He made his way to the center of the crowd to see a short, bearded man hanging onto the skinny wooden column that supported the top of the stage holding up the curtain. The man was shouting for the people's attention as music started to play.

"GATHER ROUND! GATHER ROUND! See the finest dancer in all of Westeros, finer than any in Essos! See her twist her body in ways that you wouldn't imagine possible! Hear her song as sweet as that of a bird! See her, see her! See the one and only, Arian!" With that last word, that name, he tore down the curtain and there stood a woman with raven black hair tumbling in curls down her back. She held a tambourine and she started her dance. It was slow at first, her back still facing the audience. But when she turned around and tossed her tambourine to the bearded man, Rhaegar felt the breath stolen from his lungs. Her piercing grey eyes landed on Rhaegar and he swore he'd never heard a sweeter voice as she sang. As her dance sped up, she leapt from the stage. As she was twisting and twirling through the streets, Rhaegar felt chills run throughout his body until she stopped right in front of him, an alluring smile dancing on her lips. The crowd was cheering as he held his breath until she turned around and leaned her body against his, swaying her hips and pressing her behind into him to the tune of her song. She then suddenly tore herself away from him and ran back towards the stage, jumping back onto the platform. With one final line of her song, the bearded man tossed her the tambourine and she banged it against her body on the final note and threw something at the ground. With that, she disappeared into a cloud of smoke. Rhaegar pushed his way past the people tossing golden and silver coins to the bearded man, past the small stage, and looked around frantically, searching for that girl. He then spotted a woman with raven black hair pulling a grey hood up over her head, and he ran towards her, slowing only when he reached her.

"You're quite a good dancer, Arian. That's your name, isn't it?" The woman turned her head to face him.

"Aye, that is my name. I'm glad that you enjoyed my dance." She kept walking with a confidence in her step, almost as if she owned every cobblestone that she walked on. "Now what's a southern highborn lad like you doing watching whores dance in the street?" Rhaegar tried to make up an excuse before laughing.

"I guess I'm just trying to enjoy myself before the tourney starts tomorrow." She raised an eyebrow and smiled.

"What would your wife think of you, sullying your high honor by speaking with a street whore?" Rhaegar grimaced at the thought of Elia. He hated how his wife loved him. He always felt guilty that he couldn't love her back, not in the way that a husband was supposed to love his wife.

"I think she might be upset, but there would be no love lost." Arian nodded her head before she tossed a silver coin to a vendor and grabbed a basket of strawberries, examining them with awe.

"Have you never seen a strawberry before?" Arian looked up at Rhaegar and he adjusted his hood so that it covered all of his hair again.

"I have, there's just not any of them where I live." Rhaegar looked at her confused.

"And where do you live?" Arian paused before answering.

"I travel. But I was raised by my mother, a kitchen girl, at the castle of house Flint." Rhaegar nodded as they strolled through the market.

"So what house do you belong to?" Arian laughed before answering and taking a bite of a strawberry.

"House Snow, the greatest house in all the North." Rhaegar laughed before he spotted a couple children with their mother staring at a little harp. It was a lovely thing, with little flowers carved into it's wooden frame. When the younger of the two children, a little girl with orange hair tried to touch it, her mother slapped her hand away.

"That's not for you! We cannot buy it." Rhaegar suddenly was flashed back to when he was young, before his father's mind had started to turn, and the king was kind. He had gifted him a golden harp with dragons carved into it's frame for his seventh nameday. He remembered how happy it had made him, how happy it made him still. He then strode over to the vendor selling the harp and picked it up.

"Excuse me kind gentleman, how much is this harp?" The vendor checked the base of the harp before replying.

"Three gold dragons." Rhaegar gave him six before running up to the mother and her young son and daughter with the orange heads who were walking away.

"Little girl!" The small family turned around. "I want you to have this harp. See, when I was about your age, I got my harp. It's only fitting that you should get this one too." He then strummed a little melody on it's strings and the little girl laughed at the lovely tune that came from it. Rhaegar crouched down to a squatting position and outstretched the harp to the little girl.

"Go on, take it. It's yours now." The little girl hesitantly took it in her hands before her mother turned to Rhaegar.

"Thank you, good ser. How can I pay ya back for this?" Rhaegar put up a hand to silence her with a smile.

"No need to repay me, that was a gift. All that I ask in return is that she learn to play it." The mother nodded and hugged Rhaegar. At that point, Arian had come up to stand beside him.

"Seven blessings to ya both." Arian smiled and nodded before the family walked off and entered a small cobblestone house that looked similar to many others.

"So you play the harp?" Rhaegar turned to Arian and nodded.

"My father gave me the instrument for my seventh nameday. My mother had insisted that I learn to play. So I did. And then I got quite good at it." She smiled as the rounded a corner to a secluded cobblestone alleyway. The cheers and laughter of the buyers and the sellers faded away as they got farther and farther into the alley, talking about this and that, Arian sharing her favorite tales from the age of heroes that Rhaegar had already read dozens of times. But he listened intently, loving how she retold the stories. Hours passed and they somehow ended up near a wide moat with an island of weirwood in the middle. Arian stopped.

"What is it?" Rhaegar asked as she looked around frantically.

"I'm afraid I have to go, it's going to be dark soon." Rhaegar then realized that he would be expected to show up at the feast, which was going to be in at most, two hours.

"Goodbye, Arian. I hope we meet again." He took her hand in both of his and kissed her knuckles before he began to run off, towards the melted stone castle.

"Wait!" Rhaegar stopped and turned around to see Arian standing there. "You never told me your name!" Rhaegar smiled as he removed his hood, revealing his silvery-white hair.

"My name is Rhaegar. Rhaegar of the house Targaryen." He laughed to himself as he saw her jaw drop to the floor and continued to run back to the castle.


	2. The feast

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is the second chapter! Thank you to everyone leaving kudos, I really appreciate it! I'm really loving how this second attempt at this prompt of dancing-in-the-streets Lyanna is going, I hope you do too!

LYANNA

~

She had barely changed out of her Arian clothes when Bran came into her tent. She kicked the red dress underneath the vanity before her brother could notice. He averted his eyes when he saw that she was in only her small clothes.

"Lya, the feast starts in two hours. I hope that you'll be dressed for the occasion by then." Lyanna nodded her head as Bran then left the tent. She dressed in a light blue dress with tight sleeves and a skirt that loosened at the end of her waist, making moving around much easier. She couldn't get the image of the silver haired prince out of her head. How vibrantly lilac his eyes were, the sharp cut of his jaw, his straight nose, his semi plump lips, his broad shoulders, his tall stature, his lean yet muscular physique. The actual crown prince of dragonstone had spent the day with her, watched her dance, and suddenly she felt sick with dread when she remembered how she had pressed up against him during her routine. To shake off the feeling of shame, she went for a walk around the camping fields. She was kneeling in the grass, weaving a crown of little weeds with yellow flowers when she heard the cries of pain. She stood and turned around to see a man with the green and black sigil of house Reed being kicked by three squires a little ways away. Without thinking, she ran towards them and picked up a wooden tourney sword.

"HEY! That's my father's man you're kicking!" The three squires turned their attention away from the crannogman and towards Lyanna. They sneered at her and she smiled inwardly, knowing that she would have the element of surprise. They obviously didn't think that a high lady in a dress could beat them. How wrong they were.

"Would you prefer that we take you instead?" Lyanna put on a face of feigned fear as the three men approached her. As one dove forward towards her, she spun around to the side and whacked the tourney sword against the back of his knees and he bowled in pain. The second one threw a punch at her, but she ducked and used the blunt tip of the wooden sword to jab him in the crotch. The third managed to kick her in the ribs before she slammed the flat side of her weapon against his head and he fell. At this point, the three squires had run off, and she knelt by the beaten crannogman.

"Are you hurt?" The man shook his head, but winced in pain as she helped him stand up. She draped his arm around her shoulder and helped him walk. "What's your name?" She asked, an almost demanding tone in her voice.

"I am Lord Howland Reed, my lady." Lyanna nodded her head and they started walking towards her tent.

"A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Lord Reed. I am Lyanna Stark." She lead him into her tent and sat him down on her bed. "Now, first things first, we're going to need to dress your wounds." There were many scrapes, cuts, and bruises, but nothing that couldn't be fixed with some cleaning followed by being bound with linen. She grabbed a wash cloth and dunked it in her pail of water before cleaning his cuts and scrapes gently and binding them with her linen roll.

"Lya? Who's this?" Bran asked as he, Ned, and Benjen entered her tent. Lyanna turned to face them.

"Bran, Ned, Benjen, this is Lord Howland Reed. I found him being attacked by three squires, so I beat them with a tourney sword and now I'm dressing his wounds." Bran rolled his eyes as Ned chuckled and Benjen nodded his head in approval.

"My lords, it is an honor to meet you." Howland stood and then knelt before Lyanna rolled her eyes and tugged him to his feet.

"Howland, there's no need for such formalities." She then turned back to her brothers. "Why are all of you here?"

"It's time for the feast, Lya." Lyanna nodded her head and took Howland by the arm.

"My lady, what -"

"You're going to sit with us at the feast." Howland tried to object but Lyanna silenced him once again.

"I'll hear no objections. You're a lord, and you will be our honored guest." Benjen started chatting with Howland as they made their way to the castle. When they entered the dining hall, there was a servant announcing the names of the families who entered. They stood at the doorway and Lyanna's eyes immediately went to the dais where she spotted king Aerys II, the princess Elia Martell, the princess Rhaenys, and no Rhaegar. Then, she spotted him sitting down next to his wife and their eyes met. He looked at her in confusion, why was she here? She's just a dancing whore from the market, what's she doing at the feast?

"Lord Brandon Stark! Heir to Winterfell and future warden of the North! His honored guest, Lord Howland Reed, Lord of Greywater watch! Brandon's siblings, Lord Eddard Stark, second son of Lord Rickard! Lord Benjen Stark, third son of Lord Rickard! And his sister, the lady of Winterfell and only daughter of Lord Rickard, Lady Lyanna Stark!" Rhaegar's lilac eyes had widened as he realized that she was no Arian Snow, but he made no move to say anything.

The four siblings and Howland went to sit down and the feast commenced, as they were the last of the guests to arrive. Benjen and Howland continued their conversation about sparring while Brandon was whispering sweet nothings in the ear of the orange haired girl next to him, Catelyn Tully, his betrothed.

"Ned!" A deep voice bellowed. Ned stood up, laughing, as he embraced a man with black hair and electric blue eyes. The man was young, who looked to be about 19 but was probably younger, and his arms were thick with muscle, his face chiseled into a perfect shape, accented by a short, but still unruly, beard. He was tall, taller than her father even, and Lyanna knew who he was even before Ned uttered a word.

"Robert! I forgot you were coming! Robert, these are my siblings. My older brother Bran, my future goodsister and Bran's betrothed, Catelyn Tully, my younger brother Benjen, and my sister Lyanna." Robert kept his hungry eyes on Lyanna and outstretched his hand to her. Lyanna placed her hand in his, and he bowed down to kiss the knuckles.

"My lady, it is an honor to make your acquaintance." Lyanna's smile was polite, but her actions were cold and harsh. She drew her hand back as soon as his lips were off her fingers, fast, like she had just touched burning metal.

"And you as well, my lord." She turned to join in on Benjen and Howland's discussion about sparring when Robert wedged himself right in between her and her brother.

"Lyanna," Robert started.

"It's my lady to you." She snarled with a smile on her face. Robert nodded his head and continued.

"My apologies, my lady." He used extra emphasis on the my lady, almost sarcastic. "Has Ned ever told you about the time that I climbed the length of the Eyrie? Lord Arryn had hung a rope out of the moon door and I climbed all the way..." Lyanna tuned out his voice as the music shifted. She turned her head to see the crown prince, Rhaegar Targaryen, sitting in the center of the stage, playing a majestic golden harp, that being the only instrument that was being played at that moment. His lilac eyes fell on her, and she felt a warmth run over her as he started to sing. She was entranced by his voice, and the song was one of a quiet knight who fell in love with a lady promised to another. She found herself weeping at the end of the song, when the knight and the lady had died thousands of miles apart, never to see each other again. She clapped her hands and wiped away tears as Benjen's voice brought her back down to earth.

"Ha! Are those the tears of a sweet little lady, so touched by the song of the prince that she'll cry herself to sleep?" Benjen made a mocking sad and pouty face and she felt her wolf's blood igniting a storm of anger within her. Benjen almost continued his taunts until she had reached over the Baratheon lord and poured Benjen's goblet of red wine over his head. There was laughter among the small party as Lyanna dried her eyes. She then continued feigning interest in Robert's boasts of his triumphs and got slightly tipsy on the red wine. After a few minutes, she found herself staring at the prince dancing with his wife and was thinking about how much she would give to be in Elia's place.

"My lady, would you like to dance?" Lyanna turned her attention to Robert who was already standing. She forced a smile and he clutched her small, slender hand with his large, meaty one. The tune that was playing was one native to the riverlands. Fast enough to allow the guests to let loose just enough to enjoy the dance, but slow enough as to not cause any of the ladies to blush. Lyanna didn't like the way that Robert pulled her close to him, so she resisted each one of his "accidental" pulls while they spun around the room, but he was much stronger than her. She forced herself to smile, but didn't keep herself from losing her footing every now and again to step on Robert's foot, apologizing with sweetness oozing from her words. Finally, the song ended, and she curtsied as Robert bowed. Before he could snatch her up again, Lyanna felt a tap on her shoulder. She turned around and her heart nearly stopped beating as she saw the prince standing there, straight backed and smiling, with an outstretched hand.

"My lady, might I have this dance?" Lyanna beamed as she took his hand and the music that started playing was a tune from the neck region of the North.

"I would be honored, my prince." Just before Robert stalked off and out of earshot, Lyanna spoke to the prince again. "And please, call me Lyanna."

~

RHAEGAR

~

His second cousin eyed him furiously, but he wasn't about to step down. He led her to the center of the dance floor and placed a hand on the small of her back, the other still holding her small and slender hand. She placed a hand on the spot where his neck met his shoulders and he felt chills run through his body starting from where she touched his shoulder.

"So, the lady of Winterfell poses as a whore named Arian Snow to dance in the streets." He said, almost in a teasing way, as if they were old friends. Her grey eyes widened in fear and she looked around to make sure that no one heard him. His smile left his face as he inwardly chided himself for causing her to concern. "Do not worry, Lyanna, your secret is safe with me." Lyanna relaxed and he saw the hint of a genuine smile play across her lips.

"Thank you, my prince." Rhaegar pressed his hand into her back, experimentally pulling her closer, and she stepped forward, closing the space between them.

"Call me Rhaegar." Lyanna raised brow as the music sped up and they separated, now holding their hands flat against one another as they circled their small space, their free hands facing palms out against their backs. He could tell that Lyanna knew the song as the taps and small kicks of her feet went in perfect time with the rhythm of the melody.

"Alright, Rhaegar." She said, putting extra emphasis on his name.

"So, what is the lady of Winterfell doing most days when she's not dancing?" Rhaegar intentionally left out the 'in the streets' part of the sentence so as to better protect her secret in the room full of people.

"Most days? Riding around the Winterfell grounds, riding in the forest, sparring with my younger brother in secret, hunting, needlework, you know. Ladylike things." Rhaegar cocked his head to the side as their hands separated and hooked onto each other's waists.

"In secret?" Lyanna nodded as she smiled with a mischievous glimmer in her striking grey eyes.

"My father would never allow my to carry a weapon after my mother had died. Of course, that didn't stop me from getting one." Her hand was now on the nape of Rhaegar's neck and they were spinning slowly to the pace of the slowing music.

"What is your preferred weapon of choice? I doubt it's a longsword, as that would be quite hard to practice with in secret." She nodded as he drew her closer to him, and he wasn't sure if it was the wine or her wild eyes making him dizzy.

"Dagger. I find that it's easy to stash in the sleeves of a dress and it's much quicker than a sword." As their faces drew closer to one another, he could feel her breath on his lips.

"A sword beats a dagger any day in my experience." Lyanna grinned again before brushing her lips against his ear.

"Meet me in the Isle of Faces tonight and we'll see just how true that is." The two separated as the song ended and just before bowing, Rhaegar responded with a grin.

"I look forward to it." Lyanna held her head up high after curtsying. She looked as if she were about to say something, but was cut short when Robert Baratheon grabbed her arm and whisked her away. He saw her wink at him, and he winked back as his wife gently took his hand and they began dancing to a lively tune from the Reach.

He was looking forward to tonight.


	3. Wolfheart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter isn't much, but I will be getting to the more plot filled stuff soon, so if you're interested, stay tuned!
> 
> Also, in this I made the Isle of Faces a very verrrrry small island (just large enough to inhabit about fifty weirwood trees) with a large moat instead of an actual island in the middle of a lake.

LYANNA

~

She had been forced to dance with Robert through four more songs until Ned had come to rescue her after dancing with the Dornish girl, lady Ashara Dayne. Ned had revealed that he had also danced with Bran's intended, the lady of Riverrun, Catelyn Tully as they danced and joked together. The two siblings danced until their feet hurt and they sat down to talk more about what Catelyn had been saying to Ned about the faith of the seven. Eventually, the feast ended, and all the guests retired back to their tents. The four siblings walked back together, unsure of where the crannogman had gone, and Ned and Benjen went into their tents after bidding Bran and Lyanna goodnight. Bran stayed behind and gently took his sister by the arm.

"What is it?" She asked and she saw a sad smile form on her brother's lips.

"Don't move." So she didn't. Bran hugged her and she heard a sniff from her brother.

"Why are you crying?" He was probably drunk from the Dornish wine that had been served at the feast. He pulled back while keeping his hands on her shoulders.

"You look just like mother. For a moment there, you sounded like her too." There was a heavy silence before Brand kissed her forehead.

"Goodnight, Lya, and sweet dreams." Lyanna nodded and squeezed her brother's hand as it left her shoulder.

"And to you as well, dear brother." Brandon then disappeared into his tent and Lyanna was grateful to see the candlelight inside go out almost immediately. She slipped inside her tent and stripped down to her small clothes before putting on a pair of tight black breeches, a black leather tunic, and a black velvet cloak. She looked through her bag of belongings until she found her dagger, Wolfheart, and slipped it into the sheath at her belt. It was a very rare dagger, made of Valyrian steel and a hilt of hard silver. If her father knew that she had it, he would probably slit her throat with it himself, as it was an ancestral blade that she was not supposed to have. Or anyone was supposed to have, for that matter. She stole out of her tent and away to the nearby Isle of Faces. There was a little rowboat tied to a wooden pole at the edge of the moat, so she stepped in and untied to boat from the post and began to row. After a minute, she reached the island and tied to boat to the small dock before climbing onto the mossy grounds of the island. She stopped in awe at the faces of the weirwoods, as she had never seen so many in one place or any with such elaborately carved faces. Some of them had closed eyes, some of them were open, and all of them had expressionless mouths. She felt herself drawn to the tree in the middle of the island, where there was a small clearing for the largest of the sacred trees. When she made her way around to the front of the tree, she was shocked to see that it's face was smiling. Lyanna placed a gentle hand on it's grinning face before hearing a twig snap. She turned around, fast as a viper, wielding Wolfheart in front of her.

"No need for that just yet, my lady." Lyanna grinned and lowered her blade as she saw the silver haired prince approaching her.

"Hello Prince Rhaegar. So, are you ready to be proven wrong?" Rhaegar laughed as he unsheathed his sword.

"I'm ready to fight, if that's what you're asking." They both got into their battle stance as Lyanna untied the two laces to her cloak and let it fall to the ground.

She made the first move. It was a direct thrust, so predictable, that it threw Rhaegar off guard when she tossed the dagger from her right hand to her left as she spun right past him. She was light on her feet and blocked every one of his blows with her small dagger, equally as skilled with the weapon using either hand. His tactics started to get more and more complex as he was realizing that she truly was a worthy opponent. She then started feigning fatigue to boost his confidence and get his guard down, which was working. His technique was getting simpler and he nearly nicked her thigh before she jumped back just in time. She started fake panting and she saw the triumph start to take over his face as he realized that he thought he was winning. With one last thrust from the prince, Lyanna ducked beneath the swinging sword, pushed the back of Rhaegar's ankles, and sprung up to a standing position as he fell. She kicked his sword away and held the point of Wolfheart as she placed a foot on his chest.

"I told you to be prepared to be proven wrong. I don't know about you, but speed beats strength any day in my experience." Rhaegar smiled in awe at the Northern lady pointing her blade at his throat.

"Well done, my lady. I congratulate you, truly, I was not sparing any strength at most times. You truly have a talent with your blade." Lyanna grinned proudly before sheathing the dagger, removing her foot from Rhaegar's chest, and offering a hand to help him up. He took her hand and stood. He winced, slightly sore from the fall, but it was soft and mossy ground. He saw the hilt of her blade and gestured to it. "May I?" Lyanna unsheathed her dagger once more and carefully placed it in Rhaegar's hands. He turned it over in his hands, the blade shining in the moonlight. His lilac eyes widened as he further inspected the blade. "Where in the seven hells did you get hold of a Valyrian steel blade?" She grinned as she sat in a nook in the roots of the smiling weirwood.

"It's a bit of a long story," She warned, but the prince sat down next to her anyways.

"I'm here for a bit of a long time." She grinned at him before launching into the story of how she came about Wolfheart.

"I was thirteen years old when I acquired this weapon. I call it Wolfheart. When my mother died, she was buried in a separate level of the Winterfell crypts than the fallen lords of house Stark, with all the other ladies of Winterfell who's remains weren't sent back to their original homes. I was lighting a candle at her tomb when I could've sworn that I heard a man's voice calling my name, like a whisper in the wind. I looked in the direction that it was coming from and abandoned my mother's grave. Behind the statue of Arrana Stark, there was a wooden door that I had never noticed, so I opened it. I had to take a torch off the wall to see where I was going, but I was only going down. I finally reached the floor and I lit the dusty torches hanging on the walls. I had found the crypts of the kings in the North, who ruled the North before your ancestors had my ancestors bend the knee. I found myself looking at one of the statues of a king. King Jon Stark, who raised Wolf's Den to defend the mouth of the White Knife from raiders from the sea. The stories that my old nurse, Old Nan, told me about him were always my favorite. The statue was standing in front of his tomb, both palms raised towards the sky. In one hand, there was a candle, waiting to be lit, and in the other rested this fine little blade. So I took it from it's sheath and I instantly fell in love. It's hilt still seems to have been made to mold into the shape of my hand, the blade's length and weight perfect for my liking. So I kept it. The only people who know about it are me, my brother Benjen, my brother Ned, and now you." Rhaegar stared at the blade resting in his hands with awe before handing it back to Lyanna, who sheathed it once more. She turned to Rhaegar and the two regarded each other for a few moments, each studying the other's face. Rhaegar broke the silence.

"So, tell me Lyanna Stark, how is it that a lady who spends all of her time riding horses, training in secret with her brother, and dancing in the streets, knows so many tales from the age of heroes?" Lyanna recalled entertaining the prince with tales from the age of heroes while she was still dressed as Arian earlier that day.

"I enjoy my lessons with Winterfell's maester in the library. I can't be sneaking around all the time, you know." Rhaegar chuckled at her response. "What about you? I've yet to learn more about this mysterious silver haired prince who I met in the market. Tell me about..." Lyanna thought for a second before finding a subject. "Tell me about your daughter." Rhaegar's face lit up as Lyanna listened to him gush about his sweet little five year old girl. Just like him, she was reading early and the maesters were all shocked at her intellect for such a young age. He talked about her affinity for figurines, her love of horses, and her little kitten named Meraxes after her namesake's dragon and mount. Lyanna watched and listened with great intent as Rhaegar spoke so highly of his daughter. The conversation eventually shifted back to tales from the age of heroes which he delivered with such excitement and power, she felt as if she were witnessing the stories themselves. Lyanna felt herself overcome with a warmth as Rhaegar took her hand in his excitement while recounting the tale of Bran the Builder, her ancestor, who founded house Stark and raised the great wall. After he finished his last story, Lyanna had noticed how heavy her eyelids were getting.

"Rhaegar, this truly has been a wonderful evening with you, but I'm afraid that it will have to end, as I cannot be caught outside of my tent by my brothers, or I fear I will face the wrath of the gods." Rhaegar laughed and stood up. He took Lyanna's discarded black velvet cloak in his hands and handed it back to her. She took it and draped it over her shoulders before tying the two laces at the base of her neck, securing the cloak in place.

"I hope to see you again, Lyanna. Perhaps, tomorrow?" Lyanna beamed at Rhaegar as the two climbed into the small rowboat and began to row back across the moat.

"I would like that." The two tied the small boat back up to the small post before climbing out and walking back to the fields, remaining silent the whole way. He walked Lyanna all the way back to her tent before they stood outside the entrance.

"Goodnight, Lyanna, and dream well." He took a small step forward, closing the space between them and smiled at her. She was a whole head shorter than him, but still seemed so mighty and powerful standing there in her black velvet cloak.

"Goodnight, Rhaegar, and sweet dreams to you as well." She found her hands lightly holding his and he leaned down before planting a small, chaste kiss on her cheek. She silently thanked the gods for the cover of darkness so he couldn't see her blushing ferociously as he left for the keep. She entered her tent, stripped down naked, slipped into a grey nightgown, and drifted off to sleep, dreaming of a feeling of absolute bliss in a tower of the south.

~

RHAEGAR

~

When Rhaegar woke, he thought for a fraction of a second that the black hair spilled across the pillow next to him was that of the woman in his dreams, that of Lyanna Stark. But he came to his senses the moment he saw her copper skin and he knew that the woman lying next to him was his wife, Elia Martell. He rose from their bed and stretched his arms as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes. He walked over to the wardrobe and dressed himself quickly before exiting the room, leaving his wife fast asleep in their bed.

He went to his daughter's chambers just down the hall with thoughts of Lyanna making him smile. The door was guarded by his good friend, Ser Barristan Selmy, and his best friend, Ser Arthur Dayne.

"Good morning, boys!" Arthur looked at Rhaegar quizzically, as the prince's regular somber and quiet attitude was replaced by a cheerful and happy one.

"Good morning, Rhaegar." Arthur said to his friend as he opened the door to his daughter's chambers. He saw his daughter lying in her bed in her nightgown, her black hair sprawled across her pillow, her small mouth opened slightly. He walked over and gazed upon his daughter lovingly. He knelt at her bedside and gently cupped her face in one of his hands, his thumb stroking her cheek.

"Good morning, Rhaenys. It's time to wake up." He spoke softly as his daughter's eyelids fluttered open to reveal the reddish-brown irises, just like her mother. What no one ever saw when they looked at Rhaenys was just how much she resembled her father. From her sharp jaw, straight nose, semi plump lips, thick and silky hair, deep set eyes, and full brows, she truly had the Targaryen look. People only ever saw her Dornish black hair, reddish-brown eyes, and tanned skin.

A small smile formed on Rhaenys's lips as she sat up and rubbed her eyes.

"Good morning, father. Do you think that we can spend time together today?" Rhaenys's voice was quiet and unsure, and he felt a pang of guilt as he thought of how little time he'd spent with his daughter since their departure from the Red Keep.

"Of course, little dragon. Would you like to see the mummers show?" Rhaenys giggled in excitement at her father's proposal and nodded her head. He chuckled softly and stood up. "I'll leave you to dress yourself. You can find me outside with Ser Barristan and Ser Arthur." Rhaenys nodded as a smiling Rhaegar left the room and leaned against the wall across from Barristan and Arthur who were giving him confused looks

"What?" Rhaegar asked as Arthur's face gave way to a smile.

"Nothing." Rhaegar rolled his eyes and laughed.

"Tell me what's going on!" Barristan smiled at Arthur, trying to conceal the chuckle that was fighting to escape his lips.

"Why don't you tell us, dear prince? What has you more cheerful than the day of your daughter's birth?" Rhaegar found himself thinking back to Lyanna's face above his, pointing her dagger at his throat, smiling down at him. He was so caught up in reliving the duel, that he didn't even notice when Rhaenys had exited her room until she was tugging on the fabric of his breeches. He turned to her and smiled even more brightly, lifting his daughter into his arms. He turned to his best friend.

"Arthur, I want you with Elia for today. Barristan, if you won't mind accompanying Rhaenys and myself to the mummers show?" Both of the smiling knights nodded and Barristan led the way out of the keep and over to the mummer's playhouse. It was a stage covered by golden velvet curtains with benches lodged into a small hill in front of it. Rhaegar was about to sit down in the front row with Barristan and Rhaenys when he saw a young woman with raven black hair sitting alone a few rows away.

"Barristan, stay with Rhaenys, I'm going to sit with a... friend." Barristan looked at him with confusion as Rhaegar made his way to the bench were the girl sat and silently slipped into the spot next to her. Lyanna turned to see Rhaegar grinning at her before he bowed his head and gently kissed her hand.

"Hello, my prince. Enjoying the show?" She joked with a laugh, as the show had not yet begun.

"I'm certain that I will now, with you in my company." Lyanna blushed slightly before looking around in the crowd of people sitting in the stands, waiting for the show to begin. "Tell me Rhaegar, do your kingsguard ever actually guard you? Or do you sneak away from them so often that they've given up trying to watch you?" Rhaegar laughed a loud and lovely laugh before responding.

"Actually, my good friend Ser Barristan Selmy is right over there with my daughter." Rhaegar pointed to the knight who was playing a clapping game with the little princess.

"Well, let's go sit with them, then." Before Rhaegar could object, Lyanna was already gliding towards Barristan and Rhaenys, and all the prince could do was follow. She dropped her hold on her silver skirts as she sat down next to the young princess and Rhaegar seated himself on the other side of the bench, next to Barristan.

"Rhaenys, Ser Barristan, this is Lady Lyanna Stark of Winterfell." Rhaenys bowed her little head in respect.

"It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Lady Stark." Lyanna bowed her head at Rhaenys.

"And a pleasure to make yours, Princess." Lyanna then turned to Barristan.

"Ser Barristan, I've heard many wonderful stories about you. I'm honored to finally meet you." The knight smiled and bowed his head at her.

"And you as well, Lady Stark." Lyanna shook her head.

"Call me Lyanna, please." Barristan turned his head to face Rhaegar and his eyes said everything that his tongue would not. He was questioning his faith to his wife, asking with the arch of a brow if this woman was the cause of the sudden happiness in him.

"We'll speak later." Rhaegar whispered to his friend as the music for the mummer's show began to play. The curtains opened and as the play progressed, Rhaegar realized that it was modeled after the song that he had sung the previous night at the feast, about a knight falling in love with a lady who was promised to another. He thought back to how it felt, seeing Lyanna moved to tears as he had finished the song. It had pained him to see her cry, but in a way, he felt like that had started a connection between them. He felt something towards her that he wasn't sure what to call yet. There was a sort of attraction, pulling him closer and closer to her, and he wondered if he should fear it or lose himself in it entirely. He watched as Lyanna and Rhaenys began to become entranced in the play, and he found himself imagining a different life where perhaps Lyanna was the mother to his child. He shook the thought off as soon as it had come on, and he turned his attention to the melodramatic actors.

After an hour, the knight died, after having been defeated by his lover's betrothed. With his last breath, he whispered her name and thousands of miles away, his lady heard him before flinging herself from a cliff to join him in death. Rhaenys was sobbing by the end of the production, and wouldn't calm down until Lyanna whispered something in her ear. The little princess' face lit up and she looked to the the Northern lady with big, round, and hopeful eyes.

"You mean it? Truly?" Lyanna laughed.

"Only if your father agrees, princess." Rhaegar cocked his head to the side.

"What exactly am I agreeing to?" Lyanna smiled and Rhaegar felt the same chills that he always felt run throughout his veins.

"You're agreeing to make it to the final day of jousting on the last day of the tourney." Rhaegar didn't often enter in the lists for jousting in tournaments. He was quite good at jousting, he just didn't like it. But the way his daughter and Lyanna were looking at him, he caved.

"Alright, I'll enter the lists. I'll try my best to make it to the final rounds, but there are no promises." Lyanna smiled triumphantly and took his arm as they exited the mummer's playhouse, followed by Ser Barristan with the little princess walking straight backed and proud in front of him.


	4. A pleasant stroll

BARRISTAN

~

Lyanna was laughing at a joke that Rhaegar had told about going into a brothel with a honeycomb and a jackass when they passed the men in the archery contest. Suddenly, she stopped and studied the sigils on the tunics of three squires tending to knights waiting for their turn to shoot. The sigils were that of house Haigh, house Blount, and house Frey.

"What is it?" Rhaegar asked as they continued walking.

"I just saw the three squires who were beating Lord Reed yesterday. I wanted to memorize their sigils so that he can fight against them at the jousts to defend his honor." The prince cocked his head in confusion.

"How do you know that they were the ones beating Lord Reed?" Rhaegar asked

"Because I was the one who beat them with a tourney sword and scared them off." Lyanna stated proudly. Barristan could practically hear Rhaegar smiling at the lady's courage.

"Ser Barristan, will you compete in the jousts?" Lyanna turned her head over her shoulder to face the knight.

"I will, my lady." Her smile was quite lovely. But the most wonderful thing was the sound of Rhaegar's laughter. It was a rare thing to hear him laugh, or to see him quite so happy. He only ever showed that kind of emotion when he was playing with his daughter and nothing was going wrong. Those days were scarce. Barristan remembered the days before he and Elia were married, and Rhaegar would drag him down to Flea Bottom so he could sing for the common folk. He was happier then. He was free then.

Looking at the back of Lyanna and Rhaegar's heads as they chatted and laughed and joked, Barristan couldn't help but think back to the last time that he'd seen the prince this blissful. It was just before presenting Rhaenys to the royal court. Barristan remembered how Rhaegar had been so excited to present his little princess to his parents in the great throne room. He remembered how his smile had died when his father had refused to touch her because she apparently smelled Dornish. Barristan didn't know what Dornish people smelled like, but he assumed if all of them smelt like Arthur Dayne, then perhaps all Dornish people did smell awful.

Just at that moment, Barristan spotted Arthur Dayne's sister, lady Ashara Dayne of Starfall, laughing with a few other ladies near the axe throwing contest, and the knight thought of how she smelt. Whenever Ashara and him were in the same room (which happened quite often due to Ashara being Princess Elia's closest friend), Barristan's nose would always be filled with the scent of her honeysuckle and vanilla perfume. It was his favorite scent in the world. Thinking of that marvelous smell, he realized how silly it was to think that all the Dornish folk could stink if lady Ashara Dayne was from Dorne.

The prince and the Northern lady kept walking, laughing, and joking, the little princess strolling behind them until they reached the field of tents. Rhaegar turned to the knight when they were at the edge of where the tents began, Lyanna still gently holding onto his arm.

"Ser Barristan, I will escort lady Lyanna back to her tent." There was a pause. The knight arched his eyebrow just barely high enough for the prince to notice. "Alone. Please wait here with Rhaenys until I return." Barristan nodded his head.

"It really was a pleasure and an honor to get to spend time with you today, my princess. I hope to see you again in the future." Lyanna curtsied slightly as the five year old princess smiled and curtsied back.

"I liked spending time with you too, lady Lyanna!" Lyanna smiled before turning her attention to the knight.

"It was an honor to meet you as well, Ser Barristan. You wouldn't believe the amount of stories and songs I've heard about you." The knight smiled and bowed.

"The honor lies within meeting you, my lady. I hope to see you again." Lyanna smiled politely before taking Rhaegar's arm again and disappearing into the crowd of tents.

"I like lady Lyanna." Rhaenys said once her father and the Northern lady were out of earshot and eyesight. "She's very pretty and very nice. Most pretty ladies aren't very nice." Barristan nodded his head in agreement.

"You're right, princess." Barristan rested his hand on the hilt of his sword and looked down at the princess. She was so young, too young to fully understand her place in the world, yet she played her royal role so well. Her back was always straight, her chin always tilted slightly upwards, as if to demand respect without being arrogant. She knew what she was, and she showed it to the world proudly. She was just like her father, only more open, more bold. If she were allowed to rule, she would make a good queen because of it. With that thought in mind, the knight waited for the prince to return, listening to Rhaenys talk about her kitten Meraxes.

~

LYANNA

~

Lyanna enjoyed Rhaegar's company. She'd barely known him for a whole day, but she felt like she could trust him. She trusted him enough to reveal her most heavily guarded secret to him, and even enough to duel him with that secret without any armor. The moment they bid their goodbyes to Ser Barristan and Princess Rhaenys and left them standing on the edge of the field, Rhaegar started a new conversation.

"Tell me about your brothers. I've only got one and Viserys is barely older than my daughter." Lyanna smiled as the two strolled slowly through the unoccupied field of tents.

"Well, first there's Brandon. He's the oldest, the heir to Winterfell, and the future warden of the North. He and I are quite competitive, you see, and everything I can do, he tries to do better. Everything from archery to mathematics, he tries to outdo me. Everything but riding. For reasons unbeknownst to me, he openly accepts that I'm better than him at that. My father always says that Bran has wolf's blood, which supposedly is what makes him so hot headed and impulsive. After Bran comes Eddard, who is known to all who know him as Ned. He's the quiet one. Ned's still fresh from the Eyrie where he was fostered by Jon Arryn alongside Robert Baratheon. I hadn't seen him for four years as of sixteen days ago, but he still remained my closest friend and favorite brother. Not a day went by where he didn't write to me. Upon meeting him for the first time, everyone always thinks that he's harsh and cold. They couldn't be more wrong. He's just quiet and cautious is all. Ned is incredibly honorable, just, kind, and merciful. But most of all, he's loyal. I love and trust him with all my heart. And then lastly, there's Benjen. He's a year younger than I and my only brother who was fostered at our home in Winterfell. He's the one who I spend the most time with and the one who I train with in secret. When I first got Wolfheart, Ben was the one I turned to to help me learn how to use it. He's always pulling pranks on me, and I on him. I love each one of my brothers in different ways and for different reasons. I love Bran because I can compete with him, I love Ned because I can confide in him, and I love Ben because I can joke with him." The pair stopped as they reached the opening to Lyanna's tent. Her silver grey eyes searched his lilac before he responded. Lyanna loved the sound of his deep and melodic voice.

"They all sound like wonderful men. I hope I will get the opportunity to meet them over these next several days." Rhaegar spoke the words softly as Lyanna noticed just how close they were. Their eyes were locked on each other, grey on lilac. She felt herself itching to reach out and touch him. It was odd how much she wanted to feel his touch, almost as if she hadn't had water in days and feeling him would be like drinking from a fountain. There was a great tension hanging in the air, each one waiting for the other to speak or move. She didn't know how long they had been standing there waiting for the other to make a move when she was torn away from her thoughts by the sound of her eldest brother's voice coming from the opening to his tent, where he was now standing. Lyanna turned to face her brother and the prince stepped back from her.

"Lya?" Bran's voice was investigative and accusing, as if he'd caught her in the midst of committing a crime.

"Hello, Brandon." Bran looked the prince up and down and his steely grey eyes narrowed at the sight of the three headed dragon sigil that had been branded into the leather of his tunic. He knelt before the silver prince, but never removed his harsh eyes from the soft lilac eyes of the prince.

"My prince." Rhaegar smiled politely as he motioned for Brandon to stand. The smile seemed to counter his coldness, as if to tell Brandon that he couldn't frighten him.

"No need to kneel Lord Stark, I'm not my father." Bran stood and Lyanna noticed that they were the same height. Bran was still staring at the prince coldly when he turned back to Lyanna.

"Lady Lyanna, it was a pleasure spending time with you on this beautiful morning, however I'm afraid that my daughter seeks my attention and I don't want to keep her waiting. I hope to see you at the feast tonight." The prince kissed her knuckles sweetly before bowing to Bran. Bran returned the bow as the prince made his way back to Ser Barristan and Princess Rhaenys. Lyanna turned to her brother once the prince was gone.

"What were you doing with the prince?" Brandon demanded as he grabbed her by the wrist, as if to keep her from leaving even though she'd made no move to remove herself.

"We sat next to each other at the mummer's show and then he walked me back to my tent so we could have an ample amount of time to finish our conversation." Brandon narrowed his eyes and let go of her wrist.

"What was your conversation about?" She responded without skipping a beat.

"Brothers. We were comparing the differences of being a Northern lady with three brothers all close in age, versus being a southern prince with one brother who is just above the age of as his daughter." He nodded his head, as if in approval, as he stepped back.

"Well I'm sure you two had a wonderful chat. If that's all, I'll be- "

"Brandon, come back to bed!" A shrill voice giggled from inside Brandon's tent. A voice that was not Catelyn Tully's. At that moment, Lyanna noticed her brother's black hair was slightly disheveled, his tunic on the wrong way, and his breeches not fully laced. Bran didn't even have the decency to look ashamed. Lyanna shook her head before going back into her tent where a bath was already prepared.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Sorry for the delay on this chapter and sorry it's such a filler, there was a lot of stuff going on over this Thanksgiving break, and my brother who I hardly get to see was in town, so I was spending lots of time with him as well. I'd been trying to write as much as possible in the short amounts of down time that I've had, and I also wanted to include a little list of everyone's ages for this fic. Note that most of these are not the canon ages for these characters at this time in ASOIAF, these ages are just what felt right for me while writing this. Thanks for reading, and if you like this work, please leave kudos and a comment. Bye bye!
> 
> Lyanna Stark - 16  
> Rhaegar Targaryen - 21  
> Ned Stark - 17  
> Brandon Stark - 19  
> Benjen Stark - 15  
> Robert Baratheon - 17  
> Rhaenys Targaryen - 5  
> Elia Martell - 23  
> Arthur Dayne - 20  
> Rickard Stark - 40  
> Catelyn Tully - 17  
> Aerys II Targaryen - 38


	5. The Heart of the North

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for not updating in so long, I really have no excuse. But I hope you enjoy this chapter, and if you do, please leave kudos and a comment! Thanks!

RHAEGAR

~

The prince spent the rest of the day roaming around the tourney grounds with Rhaenys and Barristan, wishing that Lyanna was still by his side. Just as the sun was setting, Rhaegar ran into his wife, who was laughing with Arthur Dayne. Elia had such a thin and frail frame, but she was lovely. Her black hair was naturally thick with loose curls, but she always forced it into a sleek, elaborate updo that was popular among the ladies of king's landing. When see spotted him, she beamed brightly and strode over to him. She then got up on the tips of her toes to plant a soft kiss on his cheek. When his wife had planted her feet firmly back on the ground, she took one of his hands in both of her own.

"Good evening, my love. How was your day?" Rhaegar gave a small, forced, and polite smile to his wife before tugging his hand away from her grasp.

"Rhaenys and I had a lovely day." Elia gave a smile that showed just a hint of her sadness as she realized that her husband had no interest in continuing the conversation.

"I had a lovely day as well with Arthur and Ashara. We spent the day in the castle, exchanging stories and gossip before going out to the pit where the jousts will take place. It's absolutely enormous, Rhaegar, you won't believe it." The forced conversation lasted a few more minutes before the prince excused himself to bathe before the feast.

When he got to the bathing room, the large mosaic tub was already filled with steaming hot water. After closing the door, he stripped down until he was entirely naked and stepped into the basin. Rhaegar's silver hair billowed underneath the water when he dunked his head beneath the surface. He always enjoyed scalding hot baths and the way that they would make him feel so clean and fresh. As he sat in the tub, slowly rubbing a bar of soap over his muscular body, he found himself wishing that Lyanna was there with him, naked and bare in the water, her large round -

 _What's wrong with me? Why am I thinking of her that way?_ Rhaegar thought to himself as he set down the bar of soap. He didn't like to think of other women, as honor compelled him to only think and lay with his wife. Rhaegar had only ever lain with Elia, but he never thought of her the way that he was now thinking of Lyanna, despite having bedded Elia a number of times at the beginning of their marriage. But even honor cannot stop a man from dreaming dreams or thinking thoughts. He wondered what harm could come from thoughts and dreams of Lyanna as he soaked the cleansing oils in his long, silver locks. After pouring water from a pitcher onto his head to wash away the product from his hair, Rhaegar stepped out of the tub and dried himself before putting on his robe. It was dark outside at this point, and the feast would be taking place soon, so he went back to his chambers and dressed himself in a red long sleeved tubic and a black leather jerkin with his house sigil of the three headed dragon pressed into it. He put on his black leather breeches and boots before Elia came into the room. She had her hair twisted and braided up in a different style of King's Landing and she wore a dress with the popular capital large sleeves and straight neckline. The gown had the Targaryen colors of black and red. Rhaegar decided that she looked quite pretty. She smiled meekly, and stepped forward.

"Would you like me to braid your hair, my darling?" Elia asked, her Dornish accent shining through her years of attempting to cover it. Rhaegar nodded and sat down on a stool as his wife got to work on pulling his pale silver locks into a single braid. She tied the end with a small lace when she finished and he stood up. They barely said a word to each other as they collected their daughter and made their way down to the great hall for the feast, flanked by Ser Arthur Dayne, Ser Oswell Whent, and Ser Barristan Selmy. Rhaegar took his seat next to his father on the dais, saying a silent prayer of thanks that he appeared to be having a good day, as he smiled at his son instead of scowling at him. The hall was nearly full with lords, ladies, knights, and squires, but the prince's eyes only rested on one person out of them all. She wore an iridescent gown with tight sleeves, a low neckline, and fitted waist with skirts that hung loosely from the bottom of her waist. She was whispering something to lord Reed as she pointed to someone. A boy he assumed to be her younger brother, was whispering to the lord on his opposite side. Rhaegar wondered what they were talking about, who they were pointing at, what was going to come of the conversation. On Lyanna's left, there was a man who Rhaegar assumed was her brother, Eddard, as he wasn't Brandon, nor was he small enough to be Benjen. Ned was sitting next to an orange haired young woman he assumed to be Catelyn Tully, who was sitting next to Brandon. She was chatting with Brandon and the conversation seemed to be fairly one sided, as Brandon appeared to be focusing on the food in front of him. As people started to dance their way around the center of the great hall, Rhaegar started to feel a desperate desire to get near Lyanna, so he offered Elia his hand.

"Would you like to dance?" She smiled widely, as any sign of affection from her husband was quite rare and always greatly appreciated.

"I would love to, my darling." They left the dais and at the start of the dornish song being played by the minstrels, they started dancing. Despite the passionate and sexual nature of the people of Dorne, their traditional dances never reflected the nature of their people. In Dorne, the people left the heat to the bedroom and danced to keep cool. As he twirled Elia across the dance floor, he caught a glimpse of Lyanna dancing with Lord Robert Baratheon. She was laughing, and appeared to be having a good time with the brutish idiot. Rhaegar felt a sharp pang of jealousy and he was reminded of the reason that he offered his wife a dance in the first place. So when the dornish song ended, the prince told his wife to check up on their daughter and quickly found Lyanna and Robert, about to start dancing again. Rhaegar stepped forward right before Robert could take the Northern lady's hand. 

"My lady, might I have the honor of sharing this dance with you?" Robert looked at Rhaegar with clenched fists and anger, but Lyanna smiled graciously as she took his hand.

"Of course, my prince." Robert stormed off as she and Rhaegar started to dance. It was a song from the westerlands, heavy on the drums and the beat of the song. He could clearly see that knew the song quite well, as he followed her leads on the twists, turns, and spins of the dance. The breath had escaped his lungs and his heart pounded, holding her as she danced. He was dancing as well, but not nearly as lavishly or well as his partner. As the western song ended, Rhaegar decided it was time to make conversation as the next song began. It was a lively tune from the Reach, heavy on the strings.

"You have a marvelous talent with dancing, Lyanna. Where did you learn to dance the way that you do?" Her grey eyes grew distant and a dark shadow seemed to fall over her face.

"That is a story for another day." Both the prince and the lady could feel the conversation dying as quick as it had started, so he went to save it.

"I've noticed that they have yet to play songs from north of the neck." Lyanna grinned the mischievous grin that Rhaegar was beginning to become familiar with.

"There's a reason for that." Rhaegar cocked his head to the side and raised his brow as he lifted her into the air, as all the other men were doing with their dancing partners at that moment in the song.

"And what reason is that?" Lyanna laughed as she twirled away from Rhaegar before spinning back into his arms.

"Meet me again tonight in the isle of faces, and I might just tell you." The song ended and she curtsied as he bowed. Before he could begin a third dance with her, she spoke again. "I'll see you tonight, my prince." And with that, she left for the benches and sat down next to Catelyn Tully, the only person still sitting at the Stark table. He smiled as he thought of another night being spent with Lyanna and began dancing with the nearest lady so as not to raise suspicions. He was looking forward to finding out the answer to the reason why they didn't play songs from farther north.

~

LYANNA

~

Lyanna sat down next to lady Catelyn, the orange haired beauty of Riverrun.

"Lady Lyanna, I didn't expect to see you alone this evening!" Lyanna noticed a crack in her goodsister-to-be's voice, the way she looked down instead of into Lyanna's eyes as she always would, and how she wiped her cheek with the back of her hand. Lyanna thought of the high pitched voice that had called for Brandon to come back to bed earlier that day and she felt pity for Catelyn.

"Would you like to take a walk with me?" Catelyn looked up at her with teary blue eyes.

"Yes, please." She took Catelyn by the arm and steered her out of the great hall, and then out of the castle. Once they were outside, Lyanna turned to her future goodsister.

"Cat. May I call you Cat?" The orange haired lady nodded. "Cat. I know that we do not know one another very well, if at all. However, you are going to be my sister by law, and as your future goodsister, I feel inclined to ask; what is troubling you so?" Catelyn sniffed again and pushed a lock of orange hair out of her pale face.

"I'm relieved that it was you who approached me, actually. I - I mean no offense to your family or the Stark honor with this question, but I must ask." Cat pauses and Lyanna nodded, allowing her to continue. "I've heard rumors.... About Brandon. About him... dishonoring young women with promises of marriage and then leaves them. I must know, is there any truth to these rumors?" Lyanna considered lying. It wouldn't be a new thing for her, and she was quite a good liar. But as she looked into Catelyn's watering blue eyes, she knew that the lady deserved the truth.

"I wish I could say that the rumors are all vicious lies. But I cannot. My brother is a man who will break a young woman's maidenhead and promise to marry them, only to leave them in the morning. Brandon may stop fucking other girls when you are married, but he may not. When you are married, Bran will love you fiercely, but he may not love you truly. He has the wolfsblood running through his veins. He is impulsive, hot headed, stubborn, and loyal to his family. I pray to the old gods that he will love you with his entire heart and will be able to give you the loyalty that he gives my family now." Lyanna had expected Catelyn to burst into tears again, but she didn't. Instead she smiled. It was a sad, but resilient smile. She straightened her back, took a deep breath, and wiped the tears from her eyes.

"Thank you, Lyanna. It's not every day that someone will speak the truth to me when it's not what I want to hear." To her surprise, the orange haired lady found herself in Lyanna's embrace.

"I pray that, above all, you will be happy in your marriage." Catelyn put her arms around her, embracing her future goodsister. The two ladies stood in each other's arms for a few seconds longer before Lyanna gave Catelyn one last tight squeeze and pulled away. She then noticed how beautiful the orange haired lady's dress was. It was velvet, blue as her eyes and the rivers that flowed through the riverlands. It had large sleeves and it fit her slim and tall figure well, hugging her waist before flaring out. The neckline went low and cut straight across, showing the slightest hint of cleavage. It was simple but it was elegant. Lyanna decided that Catelyn was like her gown in that way. They walked back inside to the feast where they sat down and were almost instantly greeted by Brandon and Robert Baratheon. Lyanna endured the rest of the feast, her eyes glued to the silver haired prince until it was time to leave.

When she and her brothers went back to their tents, Lyanna wasted no time getting out of her iridescent dress and into her Arian uniform and a black velvet cloak. She tucked the little northern instrument that she had bought from a street minstrel when she posed as Arian in the fingers a year back. As the fields grew quiet, Lyanna stole away from her tent towards the Isle of faces, until she stood before the smiling weirwood. As she waited for the prince, she decided to pray. She put aside the small fiddle and knelt before the mighty weirwood to whisper a prayer for Catelyn to have a happy marriage to her older brother. She had been sitting in the thick knots of the weirwood's roots when Rhaegar appeared. He was dressed in an off-white billowy tunic and black breeches. His silky platinum hair was gathered in a loose braid that hung lazily over his shoulder. He had a sort of look about him that seemed to say that he didn't care, but Lyanna knew that he did. She stood and grinned as he returned the smile.

"Lyanna, it's a pleasure to see you again." She smiled and walked into his open arms and they embraced as if they were old friends.

"The pleasure is all mine, Rhaegar." She loved saying his name, and she especially loved the way that it rolled off of her tongue.

"So I believe the excuse I made to see you again tonight was to inquire as to why the minstrels won't play songs north of the neck at the feasts." Lyanna blushed and silently thanked the gods for the cover of darkness to conceal the heat rushing to her face.

"Well, I guess that means I might just have to show you." She turned away from the prince and grabbed the bow and fiddle from the knot within the roots of the tree before turning back to him. "Do you know how to play the fiddle?" Rhaegar laughed.

"I know how to play almost every instrument there is. Yes, I know how to play the fiddle." Lyanna then grinned her famous mischievous grin as she handed him the instrument.

"If you know how, play the Heart of a the North, and you'll see why the minstrels don't play any northern songs." As Rhaegar began to play the opening notes to the popular northern song, the Heart of the North, Lyanna let her black velvet cloak drop to the ground, revealing her seductive Arian dress. As the song went on, she allowed herself to twist, bend, kick, and spin in a manner of ways that would make any regular lady's face turn tomato red. She could see Rhaegar watching in awe as he continued to play the fiddle and she continued to dance. The dance and the song finished with a flourish and a handless cartwheel. Lyanna grinned as she looked at the astonished prince.

"So do you understand why they don't play songs from north of the neck now?" Rhaegar had a look in his lilac eyes that made her feel warm and curious as he stepped towards her. He was standing right in front of her, their eyes locked, lilac on grey. The prince then gently took a lock of her raven black hair in his fingers and tucked it behind her ear.

"I think I understand completely." His hand went to her neck, and she felt warmth running throughout her body from his touch. He then tenderly placed his free hand on her waist and pulled her so close that their bodies were pressed against each other. Her hands were flat against his chest and his eyes were still on hers right up until the moment that their lips met.

Lyanna had kissed a lot boys before. From boys who would be lords to boys who would be cooks. But she had never kissed like this. Most boys used too much tongue, or not enough. Or perhaps they rushed it, or were too slow. This was perfect. Their lips moved in sync with each other, sucking slightly and allowing their tongues to dance at the exact right time. His fingers made their way to her hair and onto the small of her back, pulling her even closer. Before she knew it, Rhaegar was walking her backwards until her back was up against a weirwood. The kiss was not rushed, but it was passionate. Her hands moved from his chest up to his neck and she tangled her fingers in his long, silver hair, which had come loose from it's braid and cascaded around his shoulders.

The moment they broke apart, Lyanna should have expected that he would say that he was going to go back to the keep to his wife, or that she meant nothing to him. But she knew what he was going to say as well as she knew that her house was Stark.

"I don't want to leave." Lyanna smiled sadly.

"I know. I don't either." Rhaegar stepped back and she walked over to her fallen cloak and picked it up.

"But we must go." Lyanna nodded calmly.

"We must." Just as she finished tying the laces of the cloak around her neck, Rhaegar took both of her hands in his.

"Will I see you tomorrow night? Right here?" Lyanna smiled.

"You will." He beamed down at her and kissed her one last time.

"Every minute until then will feel like a year." They rowed silently back across the moat on the two separate boats. She walked back to her tent by herself that night, but she was not alone for she still had Rhaegar's fire warming her body all through her dreamless sleep.


End file.
